


Hour Glass

by SuperStreets



Category: Masks: A New Generation (Roleplaying Game), Super Streets
Genre: Everyone but Haymitch is mentioned only, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Taxi Drives are therapy, Villains aren't just evil kill-machines, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperStreets/pseuds/SuperStreets
Summary: After meeting with Atlas and the tense confrontation that resulted from it, Dr Destruction vents about his relationship, his past and his hopes to a far too kind taxi driver.
Relationships: Dr Destruction/Death Factory
Kudos: 2





	Hour Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Maria-GM of Super Streets here! In honor of a 1000 listens for our podcast, we've decided to release one of the fiction pieces I wrote along with the other members of the team that help expand and build out the Super Streets podcast world. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW for Implied Homophobia briefly at the start.

The taxi door opens. Glad I only had to wait for two to ignore me before I got one. The old bones aren’t like my younger days. No more jumping from rooftop to rooftop anymore.

I get in, making sure I don’t upset that old rib injury I got from that brawl with  _ Crux. _ She always was a sore loser at cards.

“Thanks. The rain was killer.” The fact I’m going to drench her backseat probably gives her enough indication.

“No problem. Best business at this time anyway. Where to?” Right to the point. I like her.

“77th, Cloud District. My husband’s.” My hand reaches to my mouth as the last two words leaves, barely halted by my instinct. You tend to pick up these instincts when you know who you are for so long.

“That’ll be a 30. 15 now. 15 when we get there.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” I drop the 15 into the compartment slide, pushing it forward to the driver’s side of the barrier. The comforting rumble of the engine begins and I relax into my wet and sappy seat.

“What’s an old guy like you doing out this late? No offense.”   
  
“What, pointing out my age is offensive? Just means I’ve been smart enough to live this long.” The weird look I see in the rearview mirror reminds me that this isn’t the old company where stuff like that went down smooth.

Coughing into my hand to change the subject, I shift slightly before continuing.

“Favour for a friend. She has a daughter. In college now-one of the best. They’ve been a bit distant.”   
  
“Sure you wanna be telling me this?” Her eyes raised in the rearview mirror, staring straight. Ah, she knows I’m looking. Smart.

“Believe me. I won’t drop any names. Biggest mistake I could make. Well, second biggest after you hearing it.” Despite me being deadly serious, she seems to take this one a lot easier than the last stupid comment. Maybe not so smart.

“Let an old man vent. Therapy is expensive and often boring.”

“You paid. That means till I arrive, this whole car is your big, long couch.” I like her.

“The friend-the one who’s more a person I share far too much history with than a friend-pops in often. Usually to tell me to do something she’s too emotionally stunted to do.”   
  
“Know the type.”   
  
I nod.

  
“Such as tonight. And that went as well as it could. But my husband, he is not a fan of this friend. They had…..differences of opinion in our old line of work. Professional varying pathways and that.”   
  
“What’d you work in? Journalism or something like that?” 

“Something like that.” There was that time Zero Hour killed the editor of the Halcyon Herald. Roderick did NOT let me forget that one. Our first big blowout. 

_ “You’re working with a goddamn murderer, Haymitch!” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “As opposed to all those nice killings you do?” _ _   
  
_

I really need to learn to watch my mouth. Earned me a lot of sleeping on the couch.

“My husband, he had goals. A belief that he could make things better. The friend, she was just in it for what got her ahead. The clashing is obvious.”   
  
“And what were you in it for?”   
  
I take a moment to think.   
  
“Would ‘thrills’ sound dreadfully pretentious?”   
  
“Yup.”   
  
“Then I suppose I’m pretentious. I was in it for fun. Of course I liked to make some quick money from it. Enough to fill my coffee in the morning. But the danger. That was what hooked me.”   
  
“........What publisher you work at?”   
  
I pause once more to come up with a lie.   
  
“Some independent place. We were big in the 80s.”   
  
A shrug of her shoulders.    
  
“Before my time.”   
  
“And once more, my age comes up.”

“Hey. It was you this time.”   
  
I had to chuckle at that. I must admit I enjoy this woman’s company. Hope she doesn’t pick up any nerdowells for the rest of her work night. Well, besides the one present.

“Suffice to say, my decision to keep in contact with the friend caused some rifts between me and my husband. A few breakups at that.” I leave out  _ a few attempted murders by the friend of my husband and vice-versa.  _ Doesn’t seem like polite conversation.

“Then, why stay with the friend if she caused you this much trouble?”   
  
God, I hate when they ask this question. Because I have to tell the truth.

“Because I think I’m the thing stopping her from going off the deep end. I know that’s a horrid thing to say when she has a daughter. But I nearly knew this friend longer than that girl’s been alive. I’ve seen the look in the eye of this friend. When she does things-no matter how savage-for money, I can stomach. But that look in the eye….It makes me worried it won’t stop there.”

Silence reigns. Would be surprised if it didn’t.

“Forgive me saying. But your life sounds a bit fucked.”

And I laugh.

“Suppose your right. Lord knows I’ve thought about it a few times.”

And the taxi stops. Time flew. 

  
“Another 15, correct?”   


A hand waves me away in front.   
  
“Nah. The conversation was the most interesting I’ve had all month. Keep it.”   
  
I look at the front for a moment. I then put a 20 in the compartment.

“Don’t argue. A benefit of old age is being kindly eccentric.”   
  
I open the door and get out of the car. The cold air being welcome changes from the rain.

  
“Hey.”   
  


I turn around to the familiar voice to see the window scrolling down. Around Atlas’s age. Horrendously dangerous job for someone so young.

“I know it’s probably shitty for your taxi driver to tell you this. But I’d say, tell your husband the truth. Lying’s just gonna keep piling up, y’know?”   
  


“I think you’re right.” I lie.

I wave goodbye as the car strides off into the dark mist of the night. 

Looking at the rather extravagant house in front of me-an apology I took from Zero-Hour after she crossed a line-I think of how I planned to move to Ohio. Get away from the past. Heroes and villains as I know them. Away from Zero Hour. Away from……..my mistake.

But, you know what they say:

No rest for the wicked.


End file.
